


sweet home - where are we again? - Chicago

by Arlene0401



Series: Tumblr drabbles and oneshots 2018 [8]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canadian Jean, M/M, Québécois Jean, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, alcohol induced shenanigans, harlequin romance elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 15:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15537111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlene0401/pseuds/Arlene0401
Summary: Jean has a job interview in Chicago, so he has to get there.Has to. Having his flight delayed to Cleveland, Ohio, because of a snow storm is not going to stop him. Accompanied by businessman Erwin, he sets out on a trek that gets rougher by the mile. Little do they know just how close they will become while the storm howls outside...





	sweet home - where are we again? - Chicago

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShirosMissingBicep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirosMissingBicep/gifts).



> Requested by [dont--you--heichou--me](http://dont--you--heichou--me.tumblr.com) with the prompt "Is that my shirt?" And Chris was kind enough to additionally ask for "sharing a bed" and "a dark and stormy night" so I could roll up my sleeves and wallow in tropes.

_It was a dark and stormy night._

Jean snorted and snapped the cheap paperback shut again. He couldn’t even tell why he had bought a book with the title _Whispers Of A Stranger_ and a cover art depicting two very shirtless, very buff men with flowing hair in a passionate embrace. His best guess was that he was more than a little sleep deprived.

This wouldn’t do. Jean looked about the airport lounge at the other forlorn figures spread over the furniture. Behind the dark windows, snowflakes zipped past almost horizontally. The monitors still silently displayed _delayed - retardée_ for any westbound flight, but just as Jean looked the announcement changed to _canceled - annulée_.

What little hope Jean had had left of making it to Chicago tonight disappeared with an almost audible _poof_. As the speaker system came to life and blared the dreadful news, Jean saw the United Airlines employee behind his desk get ready for the shitstorm of enraged passengers. He didn’t envy the man, despite his own itching to strangle someone.

Instead of joining the steadily growing crowd demanding compensation, hotel rooms and flight vouchers, Jean stretched his arms and contemplated the situation. 

Airports were deeply depressing places, even more so if you were stranded on Cleveland Hopkins International Airport on a stormy night, when you were supposed to have landed in Chicago hours ago.

 _Maman_ had been right. She had anxiously advised him to get an earlier connection. Flights to O’Hare were more often delayed than not, but hey, Jean was a _chançard_ , wasn’t he? What could possibly go wrong when he booked a non stop connection from Québec to Chicago?

Considering that he was now stuck in a place that out of respect for the locals he wouldn’t call the arse of the world but which was still nearly 400 miles away from his destination, a lot.

400 miles? Hmm.

Scrolling through his phone he found that there was a Greyhound bus. Maybe he could take that? He glanced at the businessman who was still sitting next to him and tapping away on his BlackBerry, apparently not inclined to add to the airline employee’s misery. He had also sat next to him on the plane, and been just as upset as Jean about the diversion. Before that, conversation had been nice. Really nice.

Clear blue eyes and a warm smile. Tall. Fitting out his tailored suit just right. Smith, he had introduced himself. Erwin Smith.

“So, um, do you want to wait it out or get out of here?” Was Jean’s smooth way of addressing his neighbour, and when the man looked up with a look of astonishment that morphed into an amused smile, he realised that what he’d said had come out sounding so, so wrong.

Blushing furiously, Jean hurried to explain his idea of catching the Greyhound.

“And you thought of telling me?” Smith looked genuinely delighted. “Why, thank you. I must be terribly tired, or I might have had the same idea.” They gathered their belongings and walked to the exit doors, trolley cases clickety-clacking behind them.

Outside, needle sharp, icy flakes pelted their faces. But they not only managed to find the Greyhound station, but get two seats as well. Apparently Jean’s good luck was rolling up its sleeves again. As a thank you for getting him out of Cleveland, Erwin raided a nearby coffeeshop and supplied coffee, sandwiches and donuts covered in obscene amounts of powdered sugar. 

“You’re in Chicago for a job interview, right? Looks like you’ll make it after all,” he remarked, licking the last remnants of sticky white off his fingers. “You seem pretty hyped about it - is it such a big chance?”

“Hmm.” Jean had to swallow his last bite before replying. “Once-in-a-lifetime chance. Pharmaceutical company. They want to expand to Canada, and since I’m both American and Canadian citizen, bilingual and tick off all other qualifications needed, I’m the right man for them.”

“I like your confidence.” That smile again. “I couldn’t interest you in working for me, by any chance?”

That sounded… really tempting, especially coming across with this lilt that was bordering on playful. Smith was CEO of… something-something-Holdings, Jean hadn’t paid that much attention, impressed enough to be talking to a CEO in the flesh.

On the other hand, a CEO who travelled economy class and needed a stranger to direct him to a Greyhound instead of hopping through the continent in a company-owned Learjet? Couldn't be such a big thing after all.

As company on an otherwise wearisome trip however, Erwin was great. He was funny and polite, just a hint of discreetly flirting, easy on the eye and how did he manage to smell so good after a long day stuck in his suit? The Greyhound crept along the Interstate at a snail’s pace, but neither men paid much attention to the monotonous white and black landscape.

Eventually, Jean dozed off. He wasn’t aware of sagging against Erwin’s shoulder or of dribbling drool on his immaculate suit sleeve. All he knew was that the fabric felt soft under his cheek and that he could get used to the cologne drifting into his nose. It wove into his dreams.

The coach coming to a halt jerked him awake. “Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?” For a second, he was disoriented and experienced a brief bout of vertigo. Then it dawned on him that his face was snuggled against some stranger’s shoulder. He pulled back and wiped spit from his chin. “Are we in Chicago yet?”

Erwin looked at him over the rim of his reading glasses. “I fear not. We’re somewhere near Toledo.” Then he turned his attention to the paperback in his hands again, which turned out to be the cheesy romance Jean had bought. 

“Oh my god.” Jean drew a hand over his hair, mortified. “I swear I don’t usually read shit like this.”

“It’s very entertaining. ‘Kyle yearned for the strong embrace of Colby’s muscular arms, but was his shattered heart ready to let this attractive man become a part of his life? It wasn’t even a year since Rick had abandoned him and broken his belief in love. He had thought it impossible to ever love again, and then Colby had come along and they had spent the most passionate night of his life, barely knowing each other’s names…’” Erwin read the lines with exaggerated pathos, and Jean had to laugh.

“You’re right, it _is_ entertaining. At least the way you read it.” Jean yawned. “Toledo, you said?” He glanced at the time on his phone. “Shit. We’re way overdue.”

“We’ve been slowing down all the time. Can you call the company in the morning and explain, try to set up a new appointment?”

“No idea.” Anxiousness gnawed at Jean’s gut, and he picked at a fingernail. “I’ll have to try, at least. But I haven’t given up hope yet.”

But much to their dismay, the bus pulled into Toledo, and it was announced that they would go no further. Road conditions were too dangerous.

“Oh _come_ on!” Jean exclaimed, the thin thread of patience finally snapping. “That’s hardly even snow, I mean look at it, that’s only a couple of inches!” He trudged around to prove his point and promptly got stuck in a snowbank that reached up to his thigh, and keeled over. Erwin pulled him up spluttering and flailing. “Bloody Americans, can’t even deal with a bit of fresh weather, let them come to Québec and _then_ see snow.”

“You’re half American yourself,” Erwin pointed out mildly.

“Yes, but I was _raised_ a Québécois.” Jean looked around wildly. “Okay, we still have time to make it. Car rental. That’s our ticket. Should have done so in the first place. _Tabarnak_.”

Erwin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Jean. Are you sure about this? The roads really look dangerous.”

“I can do it. With the right set of wheels, I can drive under any conditions.”

They didn’t get the right set of wheels. The only rental car still available in the whole city of Toledo was, inexplicably, a worn out Corolla that was well past its shelf life. Jean suspected that it wasn’t actually up for rent and only the greed in the eyes of the employee at seeing a flash of Erwin’s platinum card had provided them with this vehicle.

Only God and Chuck Norris would safely get this piece of junk to Chicago.

God, Chuck Norris and Jean Kirstein, as long as Erwin kept looking at him as if he was a man worthy to rely on.

Gently, he eased the Corolla through deserted and snow swept streets of Toledo and back onto the Interstate. Only a few brave souls were out here, all in robust, no-nonsense four-by-fours. But Jean had survived many a Canadian winter, and he was _not_ going to fail Erwin after having lured him out of the warm safety of the airport lounge.

“Aren’t you worried that I might drive us into a ditch?”

“No. Should I? I have the impression that you know what you’re doing.”

“You’ve only just met me. I could be a serial killer.”

Erwin chuckled. “Likewise. What tells you that _I’m_ not a serial killer?”

“Um. Instinct?”

“Think about it. You only have my word. If I’m really a CEO and hold a corporate Platinum card, why didn’t I order a CEO-esk helicopter or am currently soaking in a luxury suite’s jacuzzi?”

Jean hesitated. “Because you hate wasting money. And you have very low demands for personal comfort. Your suit is expensive but well worn, which shows you don’t see any point in throwing away something comfortable just because it’s two seasons behind fashion. You eat takeout sandwiches without the slightest hesitation. Your BlackBerry is brand new, however, so you have all the latest gadgets and whatnot for maximum efficiency. I think you’ve worked your way up, but you haven’t forgotten your origins.” He glanced sideways. “Am I correct?”

“Spot on. You’re very perceptive, Jean.”

They drove on in companionable silence. It was hard to concentrate on the road, since the snowflakes whipping angrily against the windshield made for a disorienting tunnel vision. Slowly, very slowly, the dark and silent landscape crept past. Jean believed most of it was corn fields, so his guess was that the snow didn’t necessarily add to the dullness. Every now and then, small groves of trees formed dark pockets. Even less frequent, they passed an exit.

Around the time they entered Indiana Jean had to admit defeat. The road had gotten considerably worse, frozen sleet and sludge turning it into a skating rink. And despite his nap on the coach, he was cross-eyed from fatigue. It was nearing 4 am.

“Erwin.” It came out slurred. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go on anymore. It’s no use. We won’t make it.”

A warm hand briefly touched his knee. “It’s okay, Jean. You did your best. Do you want me to carry on driving?”

Jean considered it. “No. I got us into this, I will get us out. But I regret dragging you into this, when you could have stayed in a comfortable airport hotel and fly to O’Hare come morning. Who knows,” he giggled with something bordering on hysterical, “everyone who stayed behind will probably arrive in Chicago before we do.”

“Well, _I_ don’t regret this, so you shouldn’t too.”

At the exit to Angola, a sign announced several hotels. They followed the directions of Erwin’s BlackBerry to a couple of inns. The first one held no vacancies, but right next door a neon sign glowed in inviting green. The cars in the parking lot were parked haphazardly, and when the Corolla glided over the icy surface Jean knew why. He let the car drift until it got stopped by a snowbank.

“Neat.” Erwin got out and wrestled the resisting trunk lid open. They skidded over the frozen asphalt to the hotel entrance, always in danger of being tipped off balance by the strong gusts of wind. Jean even accepted Erwin’s stabilizing arm around his waist when he threatened to fall flat on his arse.The warm glow of the lobby lights was the most welcoming thing he had ever seen and finally they made it, stumbling through the doors with a flurry of accompanying snowflakes.

The receptionist was polite and friendly but only do so much for them. There weren’t any single rooms, nor two double or twin rooms to rent as single. There was only one double room in the entire house. Jean felt himself transferred into some terrible romance trope, and the urge to laugh was even stronger than his embarrassment. Heck, they had been through so much over the course of one day, they would pull this off as well. Erwin didn’t raise any objections either, the dark circles under his eyes betraying that he would likely be fine with sleeping on a couch in the lobby, or on any vaguely horizontal surface.

They accepted the keycard and stumbled down a corridor to their room, wedged between a laundry cupboard and the back stairs, likely the reason why this was the last one to be rented out.

“Window or… the other side?” Erwin asked, indicating to the double bed.

“I don’t care. Your pick.” Jean yawned. Then, without awaiting Erwin’s answer, he faceplanted into the door side bed and was out like a light.

His dreams were a surreal caleidoscope of planes, gigantic snowflakes chasing him through the woods, his mother pulling his chubby little hands away from a fresh tray of sucre à la crème, suitcases made of suit fabric, and an unusually friendly bear with unusually blond fur. He jerked awake when the bear hugged him, only to find himself in the dark, tangled up in a comforter and squeezed by a beefy pair of arms.

For a second Jean panicked, but then he remembered where he was. Cautiously, he inched out of Erwin’s embrace, pulled the comforter back and debated how much to undress, for he was still in his suit pants and shirt. Apparently Erwin had managed to wrestle him out of his coat and shoes after he had fallen asleep.

He opted for t-shirt and boxers and crawled back into bed. Trying to shove Erwin back to his own side proved as impossible as moving a boulder. Jean resorted to occupy a slim sliver of the bed with his ass in serious danger of falling off. That was, until Erwin groped around in his sleep and pulled him close again, Jean’s face squished against his pecs. 

It was definitely not a bad place to be squished against, even if a hin of sweat mingled with Erwin’s scent. And if Erwin slept calmer when he hugged a bony French-Canadian like a battered old plushie, then Jean decided he could live with that. It was only one night.

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. Only one night, huh? Burying his nose in Erwin’s t-shirt, he listened to the howling storm outside until he drifted off.

Pale sunlight filtered through the curtains when Jean opened his eyes again. Despite the few hours of sleep, he felt far from rested. Erwin was still dead to the world, and it was tempting, so very tempting to curl up against the solid warmth of his body again and sleep the day away. But a glance at his phone told him that it was time to call Sina Medicals and tell them he wouldn’t make it. Hopefully they would understand.

They didn’t.

The call was far from pleasant, and with having all his hopes of a prospering career in the newly established Canadian branch of an international company crushed, there was only one thing left to do. 

Raid the minibar.

Erwin came to life half an hour later to a bed scattered with mini glass bottles and snack wrappers, and Jean wrapped up in what suspiciously looked like his very own shirt.

“Erm… morning.” 

“Morning, sunshine!” Jean chirped back.

“Jean, what on earth… all this booze - and is that my shirt?”

“Hmm.” Jean slid down the bed a bit, the too long shirt riding up his thighs. He didn’t miss the short flash in Erwin’s eyes. “Like what you see?”

Erwin wiped a hand down his face and shook his head to clear it. Then he tried again. “Jean, what happened while I was asleep? I don’t think you have the habit of drinking a truckload of alcohol on an empty stomach? Especially with a long drive and a job interview coming up?”

“Screw that.” Jean wriggled around a bit more. “Hey Erwin, you’re rich, right? Wanna be my sugar daddy? I can be a really good boy.” He winked. “Or a bad one, whichever you prefer.”

“As tempting as that offer may be, you’re drunk as fuck. What happened to your job interview?”

Jean slumped back, deflated. “No interview. I blew it. And I didn’t even have to turn up to accomplish that.” He laughed bitterly. “Ain’t that fucking grand. Just because I didn’t take an earlier flight.”

“They refused to give you a new appointment? Under these conditions?”

“They need people who can, and I quote, plan foresightedly. No room for blow-ups and failures.” He stared gloomily up at the ceiling. A gentle hand on his chin pulled him out of his brooding.

“That’s a stupid attitude in business. I’ve been able to watch you since yesterday, and I must say you adapted admirably to the situation, worked out alternatives and most importantly, never gave up. They’re absolute idiots if they reject someone like you.”

Jean had always been a sentimental drunk, couldn’t help it - and now he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Willed them back because no way in hell was he going to cry in front of this kind, concerned man who looked at him like he wasn’t some drunk loser who had just tried to make a pass at him and - fuck, now he _was_ crying.

Through the tears his sight was blurry, but he could see that Erwin’s expression morphed from concerned to deeply worried. “It’s fine,” he managed to choke out. “Thank you. This means a lot.”

Without saying anything, Erwin hugged him close for a moment. As much as he enjoyed the friendly gesture, Jean wondered if he should climb into Erwin’s lap and renew his offer. The idea was proposed by his libido and seconded by the alcohol, thirded by his current feelings of dejection and hopelessness, and only vetoed by common sense.

“Okay, Jean. How about you take off this shirt -”

Jean’s eyebrows shot up all the way to his hairline.

“- and give it back to me so we can get properly dressed and grab some breakfast. Then we’ll see how far we can make it today, okay?” Erwin gave his shoulder one last squeeze and started to collect the trash from the bed. “Come on, a decent shower will help you.”

The hot spray of the shower indeed revived Jean, and although he didn’t have much of an appetite, he managed some scrambled eggs, coffee and orange juice, while Erwin seemed dead set on stuffing himself with an entire day’s worth of food.

Through the slowly retreating fog of alcohol, Jean watched in amusement as Erwin mopped up syrup from his plate with a third helping of pancakes. “How are you not high as a kite with that much sugar in your system?”

Erwin shrugged, smiling. “I just like sweet things.” He took a bite and swallowed. “Besides, it’s going to be another long day today.”

Outside, the storm had cleared, but the whole world was covered in a thick white blanket. There was no way Jean could drive, so he rode shotgun and only stayed awake long enough to be sufficiently convinced that Erwin was a safe driver. Lulled to sleep by a mixture of booze, exhaustion and the monotonous scrunching of the tires on the snow, he leaned against the door and snored loudly.

When he came to, it was growing dark again, and the car was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic in some city street. Both confused and a bit embarrassed that he had slept so long, he rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”

”Oh, hello. We’re in Chicago.” Erwin looked bleary-eyed. “Where had you planned to stay?”

“Well, about that. I had booked a flight back home for the early afternoon, but of course it’s too late now. Could you maybe drop me off at some train station that gets me to O’Hare? Once I’m there, I’ll find a way.”

Erwin chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “So that’s it? You want to give up and go home empty-handed?”

Jean blinked. “What else do you suggest?”

“How about you stay and go job hunting?” Jean opened his mouth to protest, but Erwin cut him off. “I have a free guest room you can use for however long you wish. See it as a thank you for getting me here.”

“Seems like you did half the work yourself, seeing that you single handedly drove us here from Angola while I was sleeping off my hangover,” Jean remarked. He mulled it over. Could he really agree to accompany an almost stranger to his house and stay there? Heck, he had already spent a night with his nose in Erwin’s armpit. If the man meant him any harm he would have had enough opportunities. Including taking advantage of his own intoxicated attempt of prostitution, he reminded himself with a shudder.

“I don’t want to be intruding.”

“You’re not. Besides, I haven’t finished your novel yet, and I’m dying to learn if Kyle will find happiness with Colby.”

“Of course he will. The question is, will they stroll into the sunset holding hands or will they make passionate love in front of the fireplace?”

“It’s set in winter, so my bet is on the fireplace.”

“On a bear rug?”

Erwin waggled his hand in a so-so gesture. “Wine yes, another howling storm definitely, bear rug… I don’t know.”

Jean shook his head. “It’s a must. It’s _tradition_. I will be sorely disappointed if they don’t get to defile some animal skins.”

Without speaking much, they wove their way through Chicago in the falling darkness. The wind had picked up again, and with it the snow. When they pulled into the driveway of an unimpressive but well-kept one-storey-house it was fully dark. Erwin gave Jean a short tour, but as he had already suspected there wasn’t much to see. Erwin was a busy man living alone, so he hadn’t invested into acres of representative and empty space. Everything was cosy yet functional, with the guest room and ensuite bathroom the only rooms that weren’t used on a daily basis.

He was asked to make himself at home, and when Jean came downstairs again the fireplace in the living room was already lit, and Erwin was busying himself with dinner in the kitchen.

“Sorry it’s not much, a stir fry is about all I have the energy for tonight,” he said apologetically and indicated Jean where to find plates and cutlery.

“Are you joking? A home cooked meal is something I could murder for,” Jean babbled before he could stop himself, but damn it smelled so delicious. His stomach, empty safe for the scrambled eggs from breakfast, gave an affirmative growl. Erwin laughed and put the pan on the table.

After dinner he had to excuse himself to catch up with work, having only been able to make a couple of phone calls during the day. Jean found himself with an enormous library and a tv at his disposal, but after soaking in the bathtub and assuring his mother for the umpteenth time that he was not in the hands of a mass murderer he found himself crawling between luxuriously soft and fragrant sheets. Sinking into sleep, a thought drifted up like glowing embers from the fire downstairs. If only he wasn’t so alone in this bed.

Only the faintest of grey light filtered through the curtains when the smell of coffee and muffled sounds from the kitchen woke him. He made a mental note to either get some clothes or ask Erwin if he could use his washing machine, since he’d run out. 

It felt a little odd to don the button down and slacks he’d brought along for the interview, but he didn’t want to wear the clothes he’d dressed in to travel for the third day in a row.

Erwin’s eyes lit up as he entered the kitchen. “Good morning. You look good - a lot more rested.”

“Thank you. “Jean accepted a mug of coffee. “Sleeping in a real bed does wonders for the complexion.”

“I’m also glad that you’re already dressed in a suit, because I’m taking you to town with me.” A tad gingerly, Erwin placed a thin file on his placemat.

Jean frowned and skimmed the first page, then rifled through the rest, trying to comprehend what he saw. It was a job offer, no less, an offer from Ackerman Pharmaceutics, and they would be happy to meet him today, 10 a.m. That in itself was already a miracle, and then his eyes stopped on the annual salary. He blinked, shook his head and looked again. There was no mistaking it, they were offering 30% more than Sina Medicals had.

Mouth hanging open, he gaped at Erwin who sipped on his coffee and tried to suppress a smug little smile. Tried and failed.

“Ackerman Pharmaceutics belongs to Smith and Ackerman Holdings,” he explained.

Jean’s mind was reeling. Why was Erwin doing this for him? He had absolutely no obligation to Jean. Unless…

“Am I… do you… does that mean you are my sugar daddy now?” He asked, hating the self deprecating tone in his voice and the shaking of his fingers that he couldn’t stop.

Erwin looked positively shocked. “Jean, no! Is that what you think of me?” Jean hated himself even more when he heard the hurt in Erwin’s voice. “Look me in the eye. What got you this job offer is what I’ve seen of yourself for the last two days. How resourceful and persevering you are. I have no doubt about your qualification for the job because otherwise Sina Medicals wouldn’t have considered you. Plus, I may have had a hand in giving you this chance but what you make of it is entirely up to you. They’re not going to hire you if you blow it. Do you understand?”

Deeply ashamed of himself, Jean nodded. But before he could start apologizing, Erwin continued.

“Your inebriated and utterly adorable performance, however, is what got you into my guest room. I admit I did have ulterior motives in wanting to keep you around. That is, if your sober and consenting self is willing to… um… see me. As in, privately, in your spare time, and not as a CEO.” Pink dusted the tips of his ears and his cheeks, a look so unexpected, so vulnerable that Jean wanted to ingrain it into his brain forever. “But these two things are not connected. I need you to understand that. One will have no influence on the other. If you don’t want to go out with me, it will have no consequences on your job, and the other way round.”

“I understand fully. Thank you, Erwin. And I… I apologize for thinking you -” Jean couldn’t say it. Instead, he leaned forward and planted a shy kiss on Erwin’s cheek. Erwin kissed him back and shortly ruffled his hair, a sign that the apology was accepted.

As they headed outside, Erwin handed him a spare key for the house. “I think you’ll be home earlier than me.” Jean liked the way he said _home_ , but tried not to overthink it. He was only a guest in Erwin’s house, even if the job worked out, even if _they_ worked out, he’d have to get his own place somewhere. But even so, the mere possibility of both a career and a romantic interest in his life made him skip a little.

“Did you finish reading?”

“Oh, yes. No bear rug, I’m afraid.”

“All this song and dance and pining and nonsense and not even a bear rug? I’m disappointed. More so, I’m affronted.” Jean snorted.

“You are adamant on that.”

“Of course. That’s not a happy end in _my_ book.”

“For someone who claims to not read those books regularly you have quite strong opinions.”

“Are you seriously side eyeing me, Erwin Smith? It’s not me who ended up reading _Whispers Of A Stranger_ , if I may remind you.”

“But it wasn’t me who bought it in the first place.”

Jean crossed his arms and pointedly looked out the window, and Erwin laughed.

When Erwin came home that night, Jean had everything ready. The fireplace was lit, a dinner was prepared with stuff he had found in the fridge and pantry, and he had even dug up some fake fur blankets. Better than nothing. The material was soft and warm under his bare legs, and he felt content like a cat stretched out like this. He was so focused on watching the dancing flames that he didn’t hear the soft click of the front door.

“Is that my shirt again?”

He turned onto his back, leaning on his elbows. The large shirt, only buttoned halfway, fell open and revealed his toned stomach. “I got the job. I felt like celebrating.” He meant to unfold and get up elegantly but managed to snag a foot on the blanket and nearly fall into Erwin’s arms.

“Is this your happy ending? A dark and stormy night, a fire, an-” Erwin looked over Jean’s shoulder “- _almost_ bear rug?”

“And a beautiful stranger with strong arms,” Jean nodded. A little sigh left him when said arms wrapped around his waist and Erwin pulled him in for a kiss.

“Happy end, you say,” Erwin mumbled against his lips, “but to me it sounds more like a happy beginning.”


End file.
